I honestly think being an adult is just a never-ending cycle of paying bills and pretending to know what you're doing. Like, I’m pretty sure my life is just someone else's poorly written sitcom. And can we talk about how I actually believed that I'd have it all figured out by 30? Now I’m just here, Googling "how to fold a fitted sheet" while still wearing PJs at 3 PM. And don't even get me started...
I have this guilty pleasure of re-watching the same three rom-coms every month like they’re some kind of emotional security blanket. I swear I know the scripts by heart and can quote the cheesy lines better than my own life experiences. But here I am, 25, still waiting for my ‘meet cute’ in the grocery aisle instead of actually talking to anyone in real life. What’s worse is my friends think I’m d...
Why is it that every time I try to be an adult and get my life together, the universe throws me a curveball? Like, I just spent hours organizing my closet, thinking I’m finally winning at life, and then my vacuum cleaner breaks as I’m trying to clean up the inevitable mess that comes with adulting. Meanwhile, my bank account is performing its best sad violin concerto after I tried to treat myself to one nice dinner. Adulting should come with a manual, but instead, it's just a series of “LOL, good luck!” moments.
Why is it that every time I try to be an adult and get my life together, the universe throws me a curveball? Like, I just spent hours organizing my closet, thinking I’m finally winning at life, and then my vacuum cleaner breaks as I’m trying to clean up the inevitable mess that comes with adulting. Meanwhile, my bank account is performing its best sad violin concerto after I tried to treat myself to one nice dinner. Adulting should come with a manual, but instead, it's just a series of “LOL, good luck!” moments.
I just realized that every time I finish a book, it feels like I’ve broken up with a boyfriend. Like, I’m sitting there holding the last page, contemplating all the good times we had, and then BAM, it's over. I even catch myself scrolling through my reads, hoping to find some closure or a sequel to cling to. Why can’t life come with a “to be continued” when you really don’t want to say goodbye? It...